


Dear Maggie

by plethodon_cinereus



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Americana, Angst, Anorexia, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Catholic, Catholic Guilt, Catholic School, Childhood, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Depression, Disney References, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Existential Angst, Existential Crisis, F/F, High School Musical References, Kid Fic, Lesbian, Lesbian Character, Nostalgia, Novella, Pen Pals, Period-Typical Homophobia, Philosophy, Queer Character, Queer Youth, Religion, Religion and Sexuality, childhood angst, is it typical if the period is the early 2000s?, lots of catholic angst, more angst than holden caufield, so many high school musical references, sorry it is very angsty, that gay shit, united states pop culture, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22479790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plethodon_cinereus/pseuds/plethodon_cinereus
Summary: LGBT youth! Pining! Unrequited love! Existential crisis! Weirdly philosophical fourth graders! Welcome to the angst-filled extravaganza!Trigger/Content warnings: Catholic/religious guilt, body dysmorphia, eating disorder behavior*This story follows the life of Sam Pierce, a Catholic fourth grader who realizes she loves her best friend Maggie as more than a friend. There's plenty of pining and emotions as Sam tries to navigate her feelings for Maggie while being in a religion that condemns same-sex attraction.I wrote this story when I was a kid and decided to remake it as an adult to reflect growing up LGBT+ while in a conservative/Catholic life.The characters' personalities and some of the highly-specific details or cultural references are inspired by personal experience but the main plot is not. Obviously names have been changed for any character who is based on a particular person but this isn't autobiographical or based in real life, although it is inspired by real life.*Not all chapters have ED behavior/mention so I will put the TW before those that do*
Kudos: 5





	1. the world we live in

Sam Pierce was thinking about Maggie Crychek again. Fourth grade could never hold her attention, and the thought of seeing her best friend in just a few hours when school ended was too exciting to tear away from. Not that Sam payed attention in class normally. She was one of those people who hated school and never did the work yet miraculously got As every year without even trying. It’s not that Sam was lazy; she just didn’t see the point in doing unnecessary work when she could be doing something important instead. Like planning the costumes her and Maggie would wear when they performed the play she had been writing.  
She dragged her attention back to the teacher to make sure they hadn’t moved on to something slightly interesting. Of course, they hadn’t, so Sam flipped her finished worksheet over to continue writing the next scene of their play. In three short hours she would be able to show it to Maggie when she came over to her house for the first time in weeks, which is practically a lifetime for two nine-year-olds that knew everything about each other.  
Maggie and Sam had been best friends since they met two years ago at a mutual friend’s birthday party. The girls would say it was destiny that they met, since they attended different schools and never would have seen each other otherwise. The girls sometimes pretended to be sisters since they shared a love of performing arts and animals, and were roughly the same height and both had blonde hair. Naturally, very few people believed them because Maggie’s hair was stick straight and bleach blonde, which combined with strikingly icy blue eyes to create the impression that she was more mystical creature than human. At least, that’s what Sam thought. She envied Maggie’s near-white locks and would give a strong punch to anyone who would dare suggest her honey-blonde curls were “dirty blonde”. On the other hand, Sam took pride in her heterochromatic eyes that were gray on the outside with green towards the irises. She was also thankful to be a half-shade tanner than her best friend’s porcelain white complexion. Nevertheless, the girls figured they would be able to pass as one another given enough preparation and costume design.  
Not that it would ever happen. Sure, Sam had asked Maggie to switch schools many times over the course of their friendship just so she could get a taste of what a public school was like. Sam’s parents forced her to attend a private Catholic school two towns over in the name of following family tradition. In hindsight, this was a particularly terrible idea because Sam was absolutely the last person that should be at a Catholic school. She had never been one for rules and had long ago decided that she would follow the rules that were important or necessary but do whatever she wanted otherwise. This led to quite the accumulation of uniform code violations, late and missing homework assignments, and some quite exasperated priests. But since Sam always had near-perfect grades and no social life to speak of, the adults refrained from reprimanding her too much because she was also known for crying in class on a weekly basis.  
Maggie had said over and over that the public school was just as heinous as Sam’s Catholic school sounded. There was still a dress code, plenty of bullies, and too much homework. Nevertheless, Maggie always did her homework and tried her best to study because she was an average student at best and knew she would lose most of her friends if she dropped into the dreaded category of a “slacker”. She knew she had more friends because she was Sam’s only outside-of-school friend; and although she tried her best to hide it, Maggie realized over the years that her friend didn’t have a single classroom companion to speak of. She often wondered how such a difference in social status could be possible given their similar personalities. Sure, fourth graders could be shallow but Sam would fit the epitome of nine-year-old beauty if her hair were just a shade lighter; she was strikingly skinny and taller than most girls but none of the boys, had clear skin and no odd birthmarks or defining features.  
Maggie went about her school day accompanied by her usual group of theater-loving friends, did all her work, passed a few notes here and there just for the thrill of it, and hardly even thought about her after-school plans with the strange yet familiar girl she had met by destiny.


	2. death by multiplication tables

_This was absolutely the worst possible thing that could happen to me today_ , Sam thought as she sat sulking in math class. Well, maybe not the WORST but in her opinion it sure as heck came close.  
_I should have snuck off during recess and just walked home, no one would notice and it would be better than having to be a nasty attention seeker in this class_. She made accidental eye contact with a few of her classmates, leading her to the assumption that they were staring at her. Sam looked down and flicked the blank paper on her desk, not quite flipping it over but managing to glace at a few of the multiplication problems on the bottom.   
“Don’t flip your papers over until I start the timer! Anyone who does gets an automatic zero” Mrs. Kovacs stated from the front of the classroom. Oops. So much for subtlety.   
The time on the projector was set to sixty seconds and started counting down with an unnecessarily loud beep sounding every fifteen seconds. The students quickly flipped their papers over with a crinkling whoosh and began. Sam didn’t bother putting her name at the top yet like everyone else did, she figures she can do that at the end and buy herself a few more seconds to work. A sharp ache crept up the back of her skull as her eyes glanced down the official Mad Minute sheet with sixty multiplication problems that she didn’t know. The students fervently scrawled their answers and occasionally glanced up to see how far along they were compared to others or check the time remaining, pencils tapping rhythmically over the tense silence in the room.   
_This test is the most stupidly useless thing ever, I’m great at math but don’t care about memorizing things I could figure out with a few seconds thought_. Unfortunately for her, the whole point of the quiz was to check the fourth-graders’ memorization and speed so she couldn’t have a few seconds to solve the problems using logic. Sam tried her best to ignore the rapidly ticking timer and at least answer the problems she had memorized; which unfortunately was only ten out of the sixty. She then stared at some of the familiar-looking number combinations on the bottom hoping for the answer to pop into her brain, too agitated to think her way through them. This didn’t happen and there were still thirty seconds left. Her mind had gone blank by now so she resigned to giving up and spent the rest of the time staring at the paper as her eyes glazed over and everything went out of focus. The desk melted into a dirty tan expanse and the paper turned from simple wood pulp to piercing black numbers that would stab her if she moved. Sam’s muscles vibrated with tension as she sat sweating and red in the face and trying not to cry. It didn’t work, so the small girl tried her best to sniffle quietly and wipe the tears away before anyone noticed. True to Sam’s lick luck, the girl next to her had been staring with curiosity for the past half a minute having already finished her quiz. Katie wasn’t particularly smart or good at math, but she was a teacher’s pet and bragged about the hours she spent each night with a stack of flashcards.  
“Are you okay? Sam? Are you crying? It’s ok! It’s just math, don’t cry!” Katie said much louder than necessary. She didn’t particularly care if her classmate was upset or want to help, she just wanted Mrs. Kovacs to notice how NICE she was being trying to comfort a crying person. Of course, she didn’t speak up until after the timer had gone, Katie and the other girls always made sure to save their angelic acts of Catholic kindness for when they could have everyone’s full attention. Consequently, Sam had everyone’s full attention for the most embarrassing part of her day.   
Mrs. Kovacs collected the students’ papers as normal but paused at Sam and Katie’s desk. Sam lolled her head back in shame and slid even more of her slouching body under the desk. There were tears on the paper. She dragged her body back into a more formal position and choked out a quiet, stuttering request to go to the bathroom. Mrs. Kovacs has known Sam for years before actually having her in class because she often took the responsibility of monitoring the students on the playground and took pity on the small lonely girl who always played by herself. She decided it would be best to avoid a scene and could clearly tell Sam wanted to be alone. Mrs. Kovacs told her to be sure to grab the pass on her way out; Sam nodded, not trusting herself to speak without choking.  
She tucked her head down and tried to ignore the sick dizziness that began to envelope her body when she stood and made her way to the door by sheer muscle memory. Partway down the hall Madison, Katie’s best friend, could be heard loudly asking if she should go check on Sam. Mrs. Kovacs would normally try to give Sam a few moments of peace but figured she should give the students an opportunity to express empathy. As Sam had been expecting, the teacher allowed the gang of “concerned” girls to follow her, so she picked up her walking pace and rerouted to the bathroom on the other side of the school by the gym.  
Sam was thankful that some small miracle allowed the bathroom to be empty. She wrapped a cold paper towel around her neck and sat down in a stall to calm her reeling thoughts. _This was embarrassing, I’m the only one who still cries in class past first grade. The boys make fun of me, some of the girls just do their best to ignore me, and I’ve always the main target for the do-gooders selfish “charity” endeavors. I don’t want pity. I just want to be left alone. I just want to go to Maggie’s school_. The tears turned to retching angry sobs, and Sam allowed herself a few minutes to break down in the privacy of the gym bathroom. The familiar pang of loneliness ran down her back when she let herself think of her best friend. _We’re meant to be together and it was so cruel of my parents to keep me here in this stupid school. I have no friends here and never will because my reputation as a know-it-all ugly crybaby precedes me. I just want to be with Maggie_.  
The door to the bathroom slammed open in the typical method on an elementary schooler. The shame of being caught crying in the bathroom made Sam force herself to catch her breath and listen. She concluded that it must be someone from the gym because they just went in a stall like a normal person and didn’t seem to be looking for a crying fourth-grader. Sam ducked out quickly before they could notice that the bathroom wasn’t empty and threw her paper towel in the trash as she walked back to class. The redness had faded from her cheeks, but Sam noticed her black polo was slightly wet with tears around the collar. She rubbed her collar in a futile attempt to dry it. Realizing it was useless because everyone knew she had been crying anyways, Sam gave up with a sigh. _It’s not like any sort of appearance would make people at this school like me better_. She ran into the “do-gooder patrol” of Madison and the girls on her way back to class and let them “help” her back to the classroom, brushing off their overly touchy and not at all comforting hands as she tried to stay three steps in front of them.


	3. it's not exactly vanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: anorexia/body dysmorphia  
> This is probably the most ED-related stuff in this story, you can (and should!!!) absolutely skip this chapter. It isn't part of the main plot, just gives more detail into Sam's backstory.

The end of the school day came soon enough, and Sam was buzzing with undirected energy. She practically ran out to her mom’s car in the back parking lot. Her brother, Zeke, was already in the front seat of the car but moved to the back when she looked in the window and rolled her eyes at him. Sam was still holding firm to the belief that the oldest sibling get the front seat every time, though her brother is technically old enough to sit up front. Being in the front made her feel cool and grown-up, and Zeke didn’t seem to see the difference in sitting in the front or back seat. Small things were never a big deal to him; he couldn’t be more different than his older sibling. The two of them must have split their parents’ traits perfectly and somewhere along the line, Sam got all the anxious and observant genes while Zeke got the social skills. Sometimes Sam still entertains the belief that she was secretly adopted from some other family. It wouldn’t be much of a leap; the girl doesn’t share many physical features with her family aside from a loose resemblance to some of her dad’s brothers and the old photographs of her grandma as a child. Everyone in her immediate family has dark brown hair and dark eyes, and they are all on the “husky” side if you were being nice or “overweight” if you weren’t.   
“Do you both have ALL your books for homework this weekend? We can run back in and get them if not”, Sam’s mom stated more than asked. That’s one thing the two siblings have in common: a strong hatred of homework. Zeke groaned and held up his homework folder, the kind every seven-year-old has that some poor second-grade teacher had to label thirty of before the school year started.   
“Of course I do mom!”, Sam’s reply was much more sarcastic, “most of our work is out of those worksheet books that stay at home anyways.”  
“Okay, good. How was class? You guys had music today, right?”   
“Ms. Kay brought her stupid daughter in again today. I like the song we’re doing now, it’s in Latin, but that kid is just so MEAN! She called Sarah fat today, which is so dumb because she’s way fatter than anyone else in the class and she’s in KINDERGARTEN!” Sam’s mom stifled a laugh because her daughter’s rude observation was dead accurate. She would probably relay the story to the neighborhood ladies that didn’t have any kids at the Catholic school. Her friends knew all about the kids that were rude to Sam and the teachers that believed their kids deserved special treatment.  
“She is pretty fat. It’s weird” Zeke laughed.   
“Never say that to anyone else, you guys. It’s not nice. People can’t control what their bodies look like. And even if Ms. Kay’s daughter is mean you shouldn’t make fun of her because that makes you just as mean as she is. Okay?” Sam’s mom talked as if she were halfway between a lecture and normal conversation. Sam blushed and felt a bit guilty so she kept quiet the rest of the ride home. Zeke carried on a conversation with Mom about Pokémon cards or whatever else he was currently hyperfocusing on.   
The Catholic school ends at 3:00 while the public one ends at 2:00. This fact is pretty high on the list of things Sam is jealous of Maggie for having at her school without even realizing it. Her best friend would never know the horrors of uniform codes, memorizing dozens of prayers in addition to classwork, angry religion teachers, and twice-weekly mandatory church services with kneelers that left bruises on shins and knees. Sam considers asking her more about what her school is like today, they don’t talk about it much because Sam never have anything new to say and Maggie gets tired of listening to her complain.   
Sam has pulled off her uniform faster than necessary for any reasonable human. Changing quickly is a talent that she practiced with a friend who used to live down the street before leaving for Utah last year. It comes in handy in gym class and gets Sam out of the ridiculously uncomfortable skirts or khakis in mere seconds. After being sure she was alone, Sam positions herself in front of the full-length mirror while wearing only her underwear. She’s thankful for not having to wear a bra yet; another itchy layer of clothes sounds unbearable. Sam turns to the side to crudely measure the width of her body by pinching her stomach with her right hand to see how much it stuck out. Definitely more than the eerily skinny girl in their class, Kenzie. Last week she had squeezed between the gym lockers and a few other girls had tried unsuccessfully. They were a bunch of the cliquey popular girls that Sam didn’t want anything to do with, so she didn’t try, but since then she’s been wondering what it would be like to fit in a “Kenzie width” as the other girls had said. Sam figures that she’s close, but nevertheless she feels ashamed that she could still pinch a small handful of fat off her stomach if she really pulled. This usually leaves red welt on her skin and sometimes even bruises. Gross, Sam thinks as she looks at her torso. She then turns around and tries (unsuccessfully) to look at her backbone. She’s thankful and a bit proud that she can feel her whole spine if she runs her hand down it, and some of her ribs too. It feels not unlike the plastic dinosaurs she and Zeke used to play with.   
Recently, Sam has tried to use her math skills and creativity to find a way to compare her body to Kenzie’s besides having to join the popular girls during gym. She doesn’t actually want to be friends with them, just wants to know if she has something that most of them don’t. Using a plastic ruler held between her fingertips, Sam estimates that her body is somewhere around 5 inches wide from spine to front. This would be considered incredibly small by just about any reasonable person and most children, but Sam pictures that Kenzie is maybe 4 inches wide and feels a pang of inadequacy. She’s so pretty, and so small. Everyone wanted to be her friend because she was something unique, but in a pretty way. Sam ponders all the times she’s been told she has a unique mind, but in the vain world of fourth-graders things like that don’t make friends, they just make you feel isolated. Sam figures the bottom line is that she just wants to have something special about herself that everyone can see. Kenzie is the skinny one, sure, but she’s also really good at volleyball and is popular, so that’s not the ONLY thing that’s special about her. Sam knows she’s terrible at sports and clearly has no friends, so maybe being skinny and healthy can be her special thing.  
After about ten minutes, Sam realized that staring at her body in front of the mirror was not exactly a normal thing for a young girl to be doing, another one of those things people would call her a weirdo or freak for doing. She’s well aware that staring in a mirror is vanity and one of the deadly sins that would send her on a fast track to eternal damnation, according to her teachers. But she also knows that her typical kind of critical staring isn’t exactly vanity because instead of admiring herself she’s berating the imperfect bits of her body. So really, it’s closer to humility if anything and may be a sort of virtue. The idea solidly aligns with what she remembers from religion class. Self-flagellation and humbling and all that. Like Saint John the Baptist in his camel hair; Sam is being a good servant of the Lord as she berates her flesh and shames herself for excess. As her focus shifts away from the mirror, she notices that her skin was a bit numb from the pinching and tries to rub away the red welts and scratches left by her fingernails.  
Picking out her outfit for the afternoon with her best friend is much more interesting anyways. Sam’s mom had taken her shopping since she last saw Maggie, so of course the girl wanted to show off her new clothes. The two friends have pretty different styles, Sam would describe herself as more ‘pop-rocker’ and Maggie as ‘sundress-girly’; nevertheless there are quite a few fashion-related things they agree on. They both love graphic t-shirts and colorful hairbands, and strongly believe that denim jackets are the most uncomfortable and useless piece of outwear. Today, Sam decides on jeans with the glittery studs and a hot pink v-neck with a rainbow on it that read ‘stay cool’. It matches the sort of hippie vibe that’s been increasingly popular among tween girls.  
Expecting her friend to arrive in the next 15 minutes or so, Sam gathers some magazines for the two of them to read. She put Maggie’s favorite, Quiz Central, on top. The rest of the stack contained three months’ worth of back issues of M, J14, and Girl’s Life. Sam had already read all of these but she knew Maggie’s parents don’t let her buy magazines, her friend would want to spend some time looking at these. Sam had also found the notebook with their most recent play script and brought her CD player up from the basement. The girls usually practice their dance routines downstairs, but Sam hasn’t been spending much time there due to the colder air and lack of privacy. She anxiously watches the clock and notes that it’s already five minutes past when Maggie should be here. Sam tries to ignore the familiar sinking feeling deep inside and figures she will give it another ten minutes before accepting that her friend isn’t coming.


	4. the secret sisters

As per usual, Maggie was a solid 10 minutes late. But she was absolutely ecstatic to see her lanky curly-haired friend. The girls hugged and gushed over how COOL each other’s outfits were before running upstairs to spend the afternoon in Sam’s room. Maggie slammed the door shut a bit too loudly, earning a yell from Zeke to “not break the freaking door!” when he thought it was Sam who had done it. With the copious amount of enthusiasm expected from nine-year-old best friends who had spent an ENTIRE THREE WEEKS apart, they began exchanging stories about anything and everything. Aided by the tween magazines, Maggie starts off with all the gossip about the boy she has a crush on.  
“He’s really cute and has blonde hair the exact same color as mine! His name is Parker and he’s on the soccer team. He did the school musical with me last year but not anymore because he doesn’t have any friends who do theater. My friend Kara doesn’t like him because he isn’t in any of the accelerated classes but I don’t care. I’m only in accelerated music anyways.”  
Sam was totally intrigued by Maggie’s crush, having none of her own. “He sounds perfect! I bet he’s going to play professional soccer. Don’t you guys have a school dance? You should ask him!”  
“Girls can’t ask boys to the dance! The boys have to ask the girls. Besides, it’s an end-of-the-year dance so it isn’t for months.”  
“So you have time to be well into a relationship by then!”  
“I don’t even know if he likes me back”  
“Well ask him!”  
“Sam! Girls can’t ask boys”  
“Well you can if it’s true love! That would make an amazing story.”  
“Maybe you can ask your boyfriend out, but I want him to ask me like a real gentleman. It’s more proper.”  
“I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t even have a crush! Unless you count Zac Efron”  
“He’s a celebrity and he’s like ALMOST TWENTY. So no he doesn’t count.”  
Clearly ready to drop the subject to avoid an actual argument, Sam drops her magazine on the floor and gets off the bed that her and Maggie were sitting on. She turned to face her friend and puts her hands in her pockets, feeling a little self-conscious.  
“Want to work on our play?” she asked. Maggie agrees and moves the magazines to the side. She picks up the yellow notebook that contained the progress of their script, complete with costume designs.   
The girls read through what they have so far to jog their memories because it’s been a while since they worked on the play. It was a musical based around two best friends (of course) who end up stranded on a deserted tropical island. True to Sam’s personality, the characters are both geniuses who build a high-tech boat from scratch to get off the island. And since Maggie had an equal voice in the plot design, the characters are former movie stars who land on the island when their private jet crashed, so they also spend plenty of time modeling fancy bikinis and singing on their private beach. The girls had left off at the end of a scene where the movie star/genius/castaways got into a fight when one said they spent too much time working and the other was sick of the beach and just wanted to finish the boat and go home. And because no fourth grader can leave a story without a happy ending, they had hastily added a make-up scene before Sam had to go home from their last get together.   
As per usual, Maggie takes over writing out the script because Sam’s handwriting was hardly what one would call readable. She had to write fairly quickly because to the girls ‘writing a play’ meant ‘having a role-play conversation that we write down’. The girls mess about using scarves, jewelry, toys as stand-in props; their minds were aligned on the same wavelength to the point that they didn’t even need to say out loud what each prop represented in the world of their play. The other would be able to tell right away. Aside from a few instances of Maggie needing Sam’s lines to be more dramatic or a short pause for Sam to go looking for the perfect sheet to act as a sail, creating the play was more similar to a single person’s daydream than a co-authored script.   
It has been this way since the girls first met. They would come across a song or movie or book that would more often than not incite the exact same inspiration in each of them. A cartoon about horses began a ‘book series’ about a baby horse and a bird as best friends. The required reading of Charlotte’s Web inspired a fashion show viewed by their parents featuring a pair of Sam’s overalls. One of Maggie’s favorites was a dance routine based on Lilo and Stitch that included plastic grass skirts and enough hip-shaking to put Shakira to shame (at which point she would have given the girls a stern talk about cultural respect and the fact that lanky 8-year-old white girls probably shouldn’t be “shaking it” in such a horrifically jerky manner). Even though their creations lacked anything remotely resembling talent, critical thinking, planning, or even basic revision, they were all amazing works of art worthy of fame according to Maggie and Sam. Their parents had to admit that once you looked past all the gaudiness and general discontinuity, everything the girls made had a real glimmer of beauty at its core due to the way their personalities combined and overlapped.   
Maggie was practical when Sam had her head in the clouds. Sam could pull inspiration from anywhere when Maggie was bored. Maggie’s experience with real-world theater performance and the fact that she actually payed attention in school combined with Sam’s natural talent for writing and jack-of-all-trades skills from having read nearly the entire children’s section of the library. It isn’t difficult to notice the differences between them. One is optimistic and friendly and feminine; the other is an absent-minded loner with constantly changing interests. But the girls didn’t see it that way. To them, it was all blonde hair with light eyes, Disney channel movies, fictional books, summertime warmth, walks through unfamiliar streets, and this inexpressible feeling of being the only two people who saw the world in the exact same way. Their similarities were far more important than differences.  
In Sam’s eyes, Maggie literally was her sister. She had spent months interrogating her parents on the possibility of a lost twin or secret adoption or estranged family member. Maggie had always felt closer to her family, especially her mom, so she wasn’t entirely convinced of Sam’s far-fetched idea regarding blood relation and parental betrayal. After a brief mutual obsession with astrology (much to the disappointment of Sam’s Catholic mother) the girls eventually settled on the fact that they were sisters in some past life or other universe. Sam began to refer to Maggie as her “secret sister” when talking about her in school. The term was born to describe her feelings of profound connection that extended beyond friendship. Of course, it won quite a bit of teasing directed towards Sam but at this point she didn’t care. She knew she had an amazing best friend and that would always be enough.


	5. emails a la 2007

Even after two years of friendship, Sam still couldn’t put her finger on exactly what Maggie ever did to make her mom not like her. She had figured long ago that she was more likely to be the “bad influence” of the two of them, given her tendencies to skip schoolwork and yell or cry when she got angry. Maybe it’s because Maggie goes to a public school, or there was that time when the girls got in a bit of a fight and Maggie hit Sam with a nerf gun and left a bruise on her shoulder. Sam is tired of hearing from her dad that they spend too much time together and she should branch out and find new friends, so maybe that’s all it is. Nevertheless, after Maggie went home last time Sam spend a few minutes convincing her mom to call Maggie’s to set up the next time they could see each other. It wouldn’t be for another month, and the adults in her life seemed to be avoiding telling Sam the reason   
Maggie doesn’t have her own email but her parents let her borrow theirs provided that her friend put Maggie’s name in the subject line. Sam is the only one who ever emails her anyways, which makes things easier. In truth, Maggie is too embarrassed to admit to her friends at school that she isn’t allowed to have her own email so just tells them she doesn’t like it.   
A few days after the best friends saw each other, Sam saunters downstairs and takes over the computer room in the basement. She scoffs at having to move some of Zeke’s toys off the desk to get to the keyboard, but someone had left the computer on and she is able to log in quickly.   
Given the short amount of time apart, Sam finds herself searching for things to say. They had finished the play and it wrapped up quite nicely (the girls’ creativity lent itself to turning the insanely convoluted plot into something more-or-less resolved), so there isn’t any reason to talk about that. Sam couldn’t possibly care less about Maggie’s crush but figures she can pretend to be interested in order to start a conversation. It doesn’t have to be a long email anyways; she really just wants to talk a bit. After a half-hour of messing around with fonts and colors, Sam has elected the perfect mixture of stylized and readable so she started to write.

> To: crychekfamily85@hotmail.com  
> From: secretsister@comcast.net  
> Subject: For Maggie from Sam  
>  Dear Maggie,  
> Hey girl!!!! How’s it going? ;) Not much going on here but I got an A on my last Language Arts quiz. Or test or whatever. Literally there’s NO DIFFERENCE but everyone seems to think there is.   
> Do you like the font I’m using? It’s called ink free.   
> My mom hasn’t told me why we can’t hang out until next month. IDK maybe your family is just busy? Or mine? It’s not my job to keep track of things so IDK.   
> How is Parker doing? Have you talked to him? I think you should start a conversation; you don’t have to ask him out but I bet he would find it pretty attractive for you to make the first move.  
> Your BFFL,  
> SAM :D :D :D

She sends it after double-checking the subject. Sam had taken care to not change the colors because sometimes it doesn’t work and messes up the whole email, leading to Maggie not understanding the email and Sam feeling ignored. Since Zeke is at a friend’s house for the day, Sam more or less has free reign over the computer and decided to stay down there for a while and mess around on Paint. The young girl hyperfocuses on trying to copy some of the Picasso pictures they’re looking at in art class. The class in itself is usually Sam’s most hated subject because she’s acutely aware that even from the sugar-coated adult opinion of the teachers and parents, her art always ends up looking like a mess and is even worse when compared to the other girls. She likes the computer version because mistakes can simply be deleted and there’s a tool to draw straight lines and fill in spaces neatly, so her (lack of) focus and motor control doesn’t get in the way  
Two hours pass seemingly in the blink of an eye and Sam is only pulled from her work when the computer starts making even louder noises, signaling that the old desktop is being pushed to its limit. Surprisingly, her mom hasn’t come down to yell at the girl about spending too much time “doing nothing on the computer”. Sam checks her email again before going back upstairs just to see if Maggie replied, not that she should be expecting something this soon. It usually took Maggie a good couple days to get a chance to reply. 


	6. adults never explain anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: ED mention

Maggie had replied to the email with a blurry picture of her supposed crush’s yearbook photo, clearly taken with her mom’s flip phone camera. It looks pretty much like a generic ten-year-old boy, but Sam feigned enthusiasm anyways. Or at least, she thought she did, when in reality it was nearly impossible for such an energetic and pensive girl to hide her jealously at the thought of her best friend being so interested in someone else.   
A month had passed since their last get-together, and the two girls have a thoroughly planned sleepover waiting for them tomorrow. This time, Sam is going over to Maggie’s house from after dinner on Friday until mid-morning on Saturday. The original plan had been for Maggie’s family to pick Sam up from school, but the girl had made a last-minute transparent excuse to avoid being at her friend’s house for dinner. For almost as long as she could remember, Sam has detested eating in front of people; even her family. Even though she doesn’t see it in herself, the young girl is aware that other people see her as “very skinny, almost too thin”. The words of her family members and most adults she comes across, even strangers, ring through her ears on an almost daily basis. _You eat like a little bird, I wish I could be that skinny, do you ever even eat anything, look at that skinny one in with all of us, she doesn’t eat much, how does she get to look like that_. Sometimes their comments felt like the highest compliment in the world. Sam relishes the fleeting and intense bloom of pride that come with being called skinny even when it comes with a negative tone. She figures they’re just jealous. But other days, she would give anything to have the attention taken off of her abnormal eating habits. Being called out for eating only vegetables would have felt nice if she wasn’t painfully aware that every other kid her age loves pizza and chicken nuggets, meaning that her food choices were yet another thing that singled her out as “the weird kid”.   
Maggie was one of those so-called ‘other kids’ who knew that Sam wasn’t exactly normal when it came to food. She has always tried her best to avoid the topic because it started arguments in the past and always caused her friend to close herself off and even go home early. She’s been hoping Sam would come over right after school this time so they could spend more time together, but figured it wasn’t worth the fight when it became painfully obvious that “needing to do some reading for religion class” was nothing more than a flimsy excuse to not eat dinner with Maggie’s family. The girl almost laughed when her mom relayed the reason Sam gave for coming over late. She knew for a fact that her best friend finishes most of her homework during class or just doesn’t do it at all, and uses ‘religion class’ when she was hiding something because it was a topic Maggie knew nothing about. It’s easier for Maggie to decide it’s none of her business.  
Back at Sam’s house, the girl in question is pestering her mom about why she had to wait so long to see Maggie. An ENTIRE MONTH was just SO LONG! Sam’s mom hadn’t given a straight answer.  
“Be glad you can see your friend at all!” Sam rolls her eyes at her mother’s retort. Last week she had made a mostly-empty threat to call off the girls’ meeting when Sam had gotten a zero on a book report. She read the book, just didn’t bother to actually write the report. An easy assignment; she COULD do it but held her belief that such homework was a waste of time.   
“Mom, I just want a straight answer. Why the heck wasn’t I able to see Maggie for a whole month?”  
“That’s none of your business”  
“What’s none of my business?!” Sam raises her voice a bit, “The other day you said this is just how it worked out, but ‘none of your business’ makes it sound like there’s a reason” she huffs. Sam’s mom rubs her temples and purses her lips; the well-known posture among moms that meant ‘dear god this child is driving me crazy’.  
“Look Sam, we’re just trying to give you and Maggie some space. You need to try to make some friends at school.”  
“Well then let me go to her school! It’s hell here and everyone hates me and I have no friends”  
“You know that’s not true. What about Adri and Katherine?”  
“They were just pretending to like me. Adri is a drama queen and Katherine’s been hanging out with Brooke and the smart girls.”  
“Well why don’t you try to spend more time with Brooke and everyone then? You’re smart, and I thought you and Katherine liked writing stories together.”  
“Not anymore” Sam said glumly. She and Katherine had a falling out when Katherine said she was taking things was too far by wanting to turn their story about their mean soccer coach into a whole book series and tell the class about it. Katherine had been embarrassed for being friends with the ‘weird kid’, she enjoyed writing with Sam but didn’t want to get involved in her ambitious projects that always ended up embarrassing failures. Sam was just too immature.   
“Sam, you’re getting upset. Just drop it for now and go get ready to see Maggie”  
The girl rolls her eyes and stomps up to her room. She slams the door behind her, but not so loud that it would get a lecture from mom. _Why in the world would I ever need SPACE from Maggie? She’s my best friend and I love her. Adults never explain anything and never know what’s right_.


	7. a strange sort of longing

Maggie has been plowing her way through the newest Rick Riordan book since she got home from school; the author is a favorite of both her and Sam. She puts the book down when the doorbell rings, twice five seconds apart, which is how she knows it’s Sam. Her friend mentioned once how much she loved the unique tune of their doorbell because it reminds her of Maggie’s house. She always presses it again after the tune finishes playing for the first time. Maggie hears muted conversation from the front entryway and leaps down to greet her friend.   
“Saaaaam! Heeeeyyyyy giiiiirl!”  
“What’s up sista! I’ve missed you!” The girls envelope each other in a hug, with Maggie practically leaping into Sam’s arms. Even though they’re are pretty much the same size, the few inches height difference gives Maggie the (self-appointed) role as the “smaller” one who is carried by her friend when it comes up in their dance routines. Sam has expressed her annoyance more than once at having to be the lead in their partner dances and male role when they re-enact their favorite High School Musical scenes, but her eye rolls are no match for Maggie’s sheer stubbornness.   
Maggie links her arm in her friend’s and leads her up to her bedroom. Not that Sam didn’t know her way around the girl’s house perfectly, a mere formality at this point. Today, the two had planned on doing a check-up on their cat according to the instructions they found for basic veterinarian techniques online. The whole idea made Maggie’s mom more than nervous so they agreed to not do anything more invasive than checking for small cuts and ear health. Career day in school last week had ignited a new passion for Maggie regarding animals in general and she was TOTALLY SURE she wanted to be a veterinarian and wants start practicing. In the exact same way, she was ‘totally sure’ she wanted to be a pianist last month (the passion quickly faded after she started learning more complicated pieces that required the use of both hands).   
Sam loves cats and wishes she had one of her own. Hardly ten minutes had passed since her arrival and the girl already was holding Maggie’s cat. This particular cat was (thankfully) very tolerant of children. He’s been in Maggie’s family for all seven years of his life.   
Maggie starts running a comb through her cat’s short gray fur while he sat contentedly in her friend’s lap. The cat began purring and seemed perfectly at ease with the two girls smothering him in kisses and pets. Maggie had memorized the instructions for how to check a cat for injuries and begins explaining them to Sam.   
“So first we should check his ears for ear mites or fleas or anything. He doesn’t go outside and should be fine but I need to make sure. Scratch his shoulders while I check, he likes that” Sam obeyed and Maggie gently runs her fingers over the cat’s ears to feel for anything out of the ordinary.   
She had yet to notice that something was off with her best friend today. Sam’s hug upon arrival was a bit tighter and more frantic than usual. Her hands fidgeted with nervous energy and she had blushed when Maggie sat next to her on the edge of the bed, close enough that their legs were pressed against each other. Because the cat was relatively small, at the moment Sam only has one hand scratching his shoulders and the other is awkwardly flopped between her and Maggie. She is debating if holding her hand would be weird or just something that best friends do.   
Opting for the latter Sam shakily sets her hand on top of Maggie’s. She doesn’t really grab it, so they aren’t technically holding hands, she reasons. If questioned, she could say she didn’t notice and was just moving her hand. Yeah. Totally normal.   
Maggie definitely noticed. She didn’t move away immediately and noted that Sam’s hand is cold and a bit shaky. She pulled away and readjusted to hold the cat in her lap, therefore breaking away from her friend.  
“Right then. He’s all good. Good kitty. We should make sure he hasn’t cut himself anywhere now”  
“How do we do that?”  
“Well pretty much just pet him. He’s an indoor cat so shouldn’t have fleas or ticks or anything. But he could be bit by a spider or scratched himself”  
“Oh no! Has he been acting weird?”  
“No, not at all. I just want to make sure. You should really give your cat a checkup every month”  
Sam nods. She doesn’t have a cat so didn’t know anything about taking care of one; she usually takes Maggie’s word as fact anyways. She chooses not to think much about why Maggie had moved away when she touched her hand. She probably just wanted to hold the cat; that’s why they were here anyways.  
The cat “checkup” didn’t take long and afterwards the girls decided they probably had time to watch a movie before Maggie’s mom made them go to bed. Normally, Sam doesn’t like to watch movies. She hates having to sit still for so long and would much rather spend the time actually TALKING to her friend instead of just sitting there next to her looking at a stupid screen. But today they planned on watching the sing-along version of High School Musical 2, so there was a sort of compromise given that they could sing and dance along to the movie. Disney movies are a mutual favorite anyways, they had met at a sleepover for a mutual friend and watched the first High School Musical there. Right after the movie ended that night, they ran off to choreograph a partner routine to “Bop to the Top”. Sam smiles as she remembered how well they danced together even though there had been a small argument over Maggie insisting that Sam had to play the part of Ryan. They had enthusiastically shown their dance routine to their other friends (who by that point in the night were pretty annoyed that the two had broken away from the rest of the group).   
Like always, tonight the girls set up sleeping bags on piles of blankets in front of the tv laying as close as possible to each other. It feels like they are in their own universe. Moments like this further assure Sam’s certainty that they’re sisters somehow and have some sort of profound connection in an intangible way. Maybe sisters in a past life, maybe tied together through destiny, maybe after they died they would be angels together. Every time a song with Sharpay (Maggie’s favorite) comes on, they jump out of the blanket cocoon to sing and dance along.   
When the movie ends Maggie’s mom comes into the room to tell the girls to get ready for bed and make sure to brush their teeth. Once they were in their pajamas they wait in Maggie’s room for her mom to get blankets and pillows set up on the floor for Sam to sleep on. For some reason tonight, Sam feels a strange sort of longing when she thinks about sleeping on the floor away from her friend. She doesn’t want to say it out loud, but she wants to be as close to her as possible and deep down would really like to share the bed with Maggie.   
She tries to bring it up as naturally as possible. “You know, last time my cousins stayed the night all four of us slept on the guest room bed. We laid sideways so we could fit. It was super fun actually.”  
“That’s cool” Maggie replies “Are those the same cousins that do the crafts and stuff”  
“Yeah, the Eijdents. Allie is a year older than me and Liv is Zeke’s age. Julia is a lot younger and kind of annoying but we have to include her” Sam tries to redirect the conversation back to sharing the bed “But she fell asleep right away and the rest of us could talk.”  
“Didn’t your parents get mad when you were talking instead of sleeping?”  
“Well no, because we were in the bed right next to each other we could whisper and they didn’t notice.”  
“That’s genius! Did you plan it that way?”  
“No but it just worked out” Sam smiles.  
“Do you want to do that tonight? So we could talk more without Mom listening?”  
“Heck yes! We could talk about gossip that way.”  
Maggie walks down the hallway to get the extra pillow and blanket from her mom and inform her that they don’t need to set up the floor because they are just going to squish into her bed. The two girls settled in with their heads pressed together. They whisper back and forth about the drama at Sam’s school, the boy Maggie has a crush on, which people they know from real life are like characters from their favorite books or movies. Sam convinces Maggie to make a move on her crush, and Maggie tells Sam that she is way smarter than those other girls in her class and simply chose to use her brain for fun things instead of memorizing math facts. They fall asleep physically separated their own blankets on opposite sides of the bed but leading towards each other with their heads on the same pillow. Sam felt her heart ache with the love she had for her spectacular, beautiful, unique friend. Of course she knows she couldn’t say it out loud because it’s for couples only, but it’s the truth. She longed to find a way to explain that love could be for best friends too and maybe soulmates could be friends instead of boyfriends. When she’s sure her friend is asleep, Sam gazes at her near-white hair and whispers:

_I love you_


	8. a crap situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: eating disorder related thoughts/behaviors

In the morning Maggie’s mom is making home-made donuts. Sam has absolutely no idea how this was done only that it tastes amazing. Normally, even the thought of eating donuts made her feel sick. They were listed in her mind as “a food I don’t like” due to the absurdly high fat and sugar content. In fact, it had been years since she last ate one. Sam has an acute memory of eating powdered-sugar donuts with her family on a road trip and involuntarily throwing them up after thinking about how all the overweight members of her family enjoyed donuts.   
The ones that they ate at Maggie’s house are different. They don’t look or taste the same as the regular kind and she couldn’t imagine her family eating them. Sam associated them with peaceful mornings at Maggie’s house and happy conversations with her friend. So she ate a few (not as many as she would like and not as many as Maggie did because, well, they were still donuts and she wanted to keep some self-control here) and makes a mental note to not mention it to her mom lest she realize that Sam is avoiding them as a part of her diet instead of as a genuine dislike.   
Sam was pulled out of her thoughts by Maggie’s brother coming in the room. It still weirds her out that he has the same name as her, even though he is a Samuel and she’s just Sam. Their parents never liked nicknames, Zeke isn’t short for anything either. Sam The Brother holds out his hand for a high-five and Sam The Best Friend obliges.   
“These donuts are awesome! Mom only make them when we have friends over” he says. Sam The Best Friend nods. The boy turns to his mom.  
“Can I have friends over next weekend? Carson and Jake want to see my new PlayStation”  
“I don’t know, Sam, we have a showing on Sunday. We’ll think about it. You’d have to have your room spotless after they leave and help clean the rest of the house too” their mom replies.  
“That’s not a no!” he points out. Sam The Brother snags another donut before heading off to the living room to play with the aforementioned PlayStation.   
“What’s a showing?” Sam asks Maggie.  
“It’s where people who are interested in buying our house come to look at it. It’s an absolute pain in the butt because we have to clean every inch of the place and make it look like we don’t even live here or own anything. Last time I had to put ALL of my toys and everything in the basement closet because apparently knowing that people have lives is bad for selling the house” Maggie replies sarcastically.  
“Maggie, that’s just how things are. It’s only temporary” her mom pointed out with a tone of voice that indicated this conversation has already happened many times.   
Sam feels a small sense of dread begin to set in. “You’re selling your house?”  
“Yeah, didn’t your mom tell you? That’s why we couldn’t get together for so long, we had showing almost every weekend and my mom didn’t want us having friends over” Maggie moves from the kitchen to the living room and her friend follows. The girls take over the couch and insisted Maggie’s brother moves to the chair or sit on the floor. As little brothers usually do, he chooses to sit in the exact middle of the floor and take up as much room as possible to demonstrate how annoyed he is at the minor inconvenience.   
“My mom wouldn’t tell me anything” Sam mumbles.  
“Oh. Well, I did think it was weird you didn’t bring it up”  
“So you’re moving? Will you still go to the same school?”  
“No, we’re moving to South Carolina. I wish it could wait so I could finish elementary school here but no luck. Dad’s job wants him there by the end of the year and Mom already picked out our new schools”  
“The end of the year? That’s so soon! I can’t believe my mom didn’t tell me!” Maggie had confirmed Sam’s worst expectations when she clarified that the move would in fact take her to another state too far away for the girls to get together regularly. And before summer, when they usually are able to spend more time together.   
“I’m sorry. At least you know now,” Maggie has no idea how to comfort her friend who is becoming increasingly upset. In fact, Sam seems to be more worked up about the move than she is. “It’s a crap situation, I know” she continues, “But we have time to do a lot of things together. This is the last showing so I bet we can meet up every weekend from now on and maybe even some weekdays”  
“Yeah, okay. We need to make a bucket list and do everything before you leave.” The thought of planning projects and making to-do lists of everything they’ve ever wanted to do together allows Sam to channel her anxiety into excitement.   
“Good idea! That will be awesome! We can start writing it today and finish it next week. Maybe I can come over to your house then.” The girls prefer Sam’s house because they have bit more freedom to get up to their antics since her mom is already used to Sam’s usual type of creations. Maggie has already pulled out her favorite notebook, the leather-bound pink one with embossed cherries. Sam hands her a marker that she found on the floor and the two started jotting down their ideas.  
“Okay so we definitely need to write another play, and perform it, and make sure it had lots of dancing. Oh, and we should make a real dance routine too! And write a book together”. Maggie smiles as she writes down her friend’s ideas.   
“I want to go see a movie in the movie theater with you too. I know you don’t usually like it but it will be fun, I promise. And we should get dressed up and go shopping together again” Maggie tries to think of things she usually did with her other friends that she and Sam hadn’t yet.   
“We could get our makeup done somewhere!” Sam has never been one to turn down an excuse to paint her face with every color possible in the most artistic yet chaotic way.   
“Perfect!” Maggie also loves makeup, especially classics like red lipstick. “We can make this into a real bucket list at your house next time”  
The doorbell rings, just once, indicating that Sam’s mom is here to pick her up. The girls grumble and reluctantly stomp upstairs to grab Sam’s things. They had learned long ago that trying to avoid going home was a losing battle that at best bought them an extra ten minutes hiding in a closet together giggling and at worst jeopardized their next get-together plans.


	9. the bucket list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the universe will swoop in at the last second and make it so Maggie can stay, or better yet so Sam can go with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course the one chapter that is entirely cutesy and angst-free is the shortest one I write.

The girls’ parents honestly felt bad about having to see the inseparable pair forced apart by the adult world. They all remembered their own experiences moving away from a close friend or having their friends leave and knew how hard it was. At least now, they reasoned, it’s the twenty-first century and the girls have technology on their side. They can keep in touch with email and call each other over the phone. Additionally, although she would never tell her daughter, Sam’s mom was hoping that some forced distance from Maggie would motivate her to make other friends. She’s not blind, she knows the girl’s social circle is really more of a single point that includes herself and the occasional sympathetic teacher or new student at school. Sure, Sam is a little out-of-the-ordinary and kids can be mean, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t at least try to get along with her peers.  
The adults had agreed to make plans for Sam and Maggie to spend some time together each weekend. Weekdays were still out of the question, though not for lack of begging on the girls part, it was just too impractical with them at different schools. So Sam and Maggie ended up at Sam’s house as planned on Friday evening after school to make the OFFICIAL bucket list. Maggie stood on the doorstep bouncing on her heels and pressing her face against the window as she rang the doorbell. As promised, she brought over the rough draft of their bucket list. She could hear her friend jump down the stairs and moved back a bit from the door, bracing herself for the impact of Sam’s hug.  
“Mom, Maggie’s here!” the girl yelled as she opened the door. She throws her arms around her friend’s shoulders and Maggie pushes her way inside.  
“I’m here!” she announced to no one in particular. Both girls run upstairs as fast as possible, Sam taking them two at a time as usual. She frequently brags about being able to do three at a time if she really wants to.  
“Okay, so do you have paper and markers and stuff? And probably a pencil to write things before using marker that we can’t erase.”  
“Oh even better my dude, I took some stamps from my mom. We have to clean the ink off really well after we’re done or else she’ll freak out. But these look so much nicer than handwriting.”  
“Maybe YOUR handwriting” Maggie jests. Sam shoots her an exaggerated frown but nods in agreement.  
“Which color paper?”  
“Well we should do a lighter color paper” Maggie selects a piece of pale-yellow construction paper.  
“But yellow is booooooriiiiing”  
“It will work better, trust me. This way we can write in every color and it will still show up”.  
Sam relents, she knows that given her current grade in art class Maggie should be the one making art-related decisions anyways. She set aside the rest of the construction paper and pulls out three more pieces of yellow. This thing is a big deal so of course it requires big paper..  
“What are you doing?”  
“Taping four pieces together to make a big one, duh.”  
“Oh perfect!” Maggie held the paper steady while Sam pressed the tape down. Her inner perfectionist fretted at the uneven gaps and twisted pieces of tape (Sam has never been described as neat) but she figures it could be covered with enough drawing.  
“Ok so I’ll write and you’ll color in the letters?”  
“Oh duh, my bubble letter designs are LEGENDARY!”  
The girls work in comfortable silence, starting with writing out their ideas from last time and adding a few new ones. Sam stamps the title above Maggie’s writing, officially declaring the mess of yellow paper and marker ink Maggie and Sam’s Official Pre-Moving Bucket List!!! She pins it up on the wall right next to her closet.  
“And we can cross things off as we do them! So which do you want to do today?  
“As many as we can. Let’s start with making a dance routine.”


	10. how's it gonna be

It’s now December and the girls have done almost everything they had promised to do together before Maggie’s move. The past month has been bittersweet; they’ve spent much more time together than usual but always knew in the back of their minds that it wouldn’t last forever. Maggie is finishing the last of the packing and she can hear her family doing the same thing down the hall. Her dad has a classic rock station playing on the radio because it’s just about the only thing everyone can agree on (although she would never admit to enjoying it because girls are supposed to like pop music), and Maggie sings along to “Back in Black” while taking the last few decorations off the walls. She pulls the tape off a picture of her and Sam and stands in the middle of the near-empty room looking down at it for a minute. It’s an old picture from around when they first met; they’re wearing bikini tops with jean skirts and standing barefoot in the grass behind Sam’s house. Sam’s hair is in pigtails and Maggie’s in a high ponytail, the white blonde color seems to glow in the sun so it looks like she has a rope of light streaming off her head. Both girls are holding plastic swords posed to be fighting an invisible enemy instead of each other. Maggie remembers they were acting out a scene from a story Sam had written, something about two famous surfers time traveling back to Ancient Rome to fight off a sorcerer. She thinks their costumes look pretty stupid now but kept the picture up because both her and Sam look really pretty in it. She carefully slips it in the inside cover of her copy of the first Harry Potter book. The walls are now entirely bare so she sets about packing up her bookshelf, starting with the book in her hand.   
Sam has spent the day trying to drum up some feelings of hatred or anger towards her best friend. It feels wrong to have her leave while they’re still so close; usually when one of her neighborhood friends move they had some sort of fight by now and aren’t spending time together so it feels like more of a relief than anything when they move. For whatever reason this hasn’t happened yet with Maggie, maybe because she isn’t a neighbor. Or more likely, Sam thinks, it’s because their souls are connected and the universe can sense that they aren’t supposed to be apart. Maybe the universe will swoop in at the last second and make it so Maggie can stay, or better yet so Sam can go with her.  
Always one for a dramatic flair, Sam made sure her bedroom door was locked before wedging herself in the back corner of her closet with a flashlight and stack of Maggie’s favorite magazines. Between the two of them all the quizzes had already been filled out, sometimes more than once, but Sam went through some of her old favorites anyways. She flipped to the well-worn page of a “how well do you know your best friend?” test. Two weeks ago her and Maggie went filled it out about each other and got the highest “score”- Best Friends For Life! Using her purple pen, Sam wrote the answers to simplistic questions about her best friend in a separate notebook although the writing was unnecessary considering the facts were etched into her mind permanently. She knew Maggie’s eye color, favorite animal, cake or ice cream preference, favorite color, current crush, favorite season, preferred music genre (classic rock but don’t tell anyone), and whatever else better than anyone else. The magazines only held her attention for a few minutes and she already read through the new science fiction book she got at the school library this week (a personal recommendation the librarian snuck from the middle-schooler’s section for her) so now Sam is just sitting in a dim closet corner doing nothing. _Pretty pathetic, even for me_. She hears the back door slam downstairs, followed by the loud chatter of her brother and his best friend, Nate.  
“Hey mom, Nate’s here! We’re going to go play videogames.”  
“Hi Mrs. Pierce!”  
“Hi Nate, how are you? Ready for winter break?”  
“I’m ready for no homework but not ready to be babysitting the kids all the time”  
“Yeah I bet! Maybe I’ll have to send Zeke and Sam over to help you out with them, your sisters just adore Sam”  
Nate chuckled and nodded in agreement. He’s the oldest sibling in the family by three years and fairly responsible for a seven-year-old so his parents often leave him at home alone with his little siblings for short periods of time. His little brother Asher is in kindergarten hangs off of Nate and Zeke like a spiderweb hangs off of the disgruntled jogger that ran headfirst into it on a narrow trail. He also has two younger sisters, a four-year-old named Natalie and a toddler named Marian. It’s absolutely true that the girls adore Sam, they think she is the most fun person in the universe. Mostly because not very many adults or kids older than Nate actually listen to what they have to say, so being around Sam is a cherished experience. Sam has always felt like she gets along better with younger kids and loves being around the two girls who think she’s amazing instead of a freak.   
Loud footsteps on the stairs alert the boys to Sam’s presence. She saunters into the entryway where they have just finished taking off their coats and throwing them in a heap on the floor. She smacks her right hand on the wall and leans against it with her arm extended in a pose that would have said ‘I’m the coolest person in the room right now and you should listen to what I have to say’ if one were not a young pre-teen with tangled hair wearing four different rainbow colors and hyperextending their elbow. So Sam mostly ended up looking like the hyperactive kid that she was. Nevertheless, Nate still has a bit of a crush on her and Zeke always appreciates larger groups of friends so they both turn their attention towards the lanky, messy kid staring at them.   
“Hey Sam, good to see you!”  
“How’s it going, Nate?”  
“Not bad, we’re going to go play Zeke’s new racing game downstairs”  
“Oh the loud one? Boooor-iiiiing!”  
“Shut up! Just because you’re in your room alone reading all the time doesn’t mean my stuff is boring,” Zeke argues. Sam responds to her brother with one of her classic, overly-dramatic combination eye roll/groans.  
“Shut up. I guess I’ll come watch you play for a bit before I head over to Maggie’s”  
“Oh that’s right, she’s moving. Her brother was in my class last year,” Nate said.  
“Yeah it sucks! I’m going to miss her so much. But I’m sure we’ll find our way back together.”  
“Maybe you guys can be pen pals? We did a pen pal thing in school and it was pretty fun.”  
“Not a bad idea. Then I can have her address for if I ever go to visit too.” The three kids move downstairs as the conversation carries on, with Zeke leading the way yet being mostly quiet. He’s the kind of kid who prefers to either dominate the conversation 100% or be zoned out thinking of his own thing. Sam is pretty sure he’s also inherited their grandpa’s ADHD.   
They settle into their usual locations in the basement; Zeke and Nate in the leather armchairs and Sam sprawled gracelessly on the couch. She lays on her back and flings one leg up over the back of the couch and hangs her head upside down off the edge, giving her the appearance of a bored starfish that’s a little miffed to be on land. As Zeke fires up the game system Nate wastes no time in grabbing root beer out of the fridge and puts the cans in coozies to make it look like he’s holding real beer. He tries to force a burp to look “cool” and instead ends up making a sort of grunting sound and doubling over in a coughing fit.   
Sam laughs at him, “Freaking weirdo.”  
“Got something in my throat…” Nate mumbles.   
“Hey, did you get me one?” Zeke calls. Nate throws the second can of root beer way harder than necessary and it makes a loud smack when Zeke catches it.   
“Aw, I wanted real beer” he whines. Nate’s eyes widen and he stumbles through various words of protest at the thought of actually drinking.   
“He’s kidding, dude,” Sam points out as she rolls out of her sprawling position on the sofa and onto he floor. Nate somehow thinks it’s incredibly sexy, or as near as a seven-year-old can figure sexy would be. His little crush gets just a tad bigger when the girl is in a sulky mood. Already bored with watching the boys, Sam pulls a 300-piece puzzle out of the game room and gets to work on it on the floor in front of the tv. She can claim it as spending ‘quality time’ with her brother when their parents ask without actually having to play with him; anxiety about Maggie has taken over her mind leaving no room for pretending to be interested in the backstory of every power ranger.   
Nate ends up staying for most of the day, as usual. After dinner Sam’s mom had planned on sending him home so she could take both Zeke and Sam to go say goodbye to Maggie’s family before they leave, but Zeke showed no interest in going. He had never really gotten along with Maggie’s brother; they didn’t have much in common or go to the same school, so Zeke didn’t care to stand awkwardly in the doorway while Sam and Maggie cried and hugged or whatever. He and Nate were left in the basement playing darts with their dad on standby to make sure the boys didn’t punch (more) holes in the wall.


	11. so this is see you later, i'm not into goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And you’ll write to me?”  
> “I’ll write to you.”

Sam is trying her best to keep her cool on the drive over. It would be embarrassing to have Maggie’s last image of her be tear-streaked and messy. She had dressed up for the occasion, wearing an old yellow t-shirt with embroidered flowers that she had worn as part of a costume for one of their many dance routines. It was a little small now and she kept tugging the hem down, but the shirt had too many memories to get rid of and her mom was the only one who seemed to notice it was too small. Sam also wore a stack of colorful bangle bracelets and a necklace with a sunflower on it. For whatever reason sunflowers and the color yellow always seemed like the perfect complement to Maggie’s style of cherries and soft pink everything. Sam’s mom could tell that she was upset, but knew that her daughter was pretty open talking about her problems so didn’t pry. They’d had a few conversations about Maggie leaving and she seemed to be hung up on it, unable to get over and through her friend leaving the way she had before when others moved away.   
Sam was also bringing a good-bye gift for her friend. It was a copy of one of her favorite books, The Lemonade War, with a stack of photos of the two of them tucked in the front cover and a few pages from their notebook. She couldn’t bear to part with most of it so instead tore out pieces, such as songs Maggie had written or some of the drawings. Maggie had never been nearly as sentimental. Sam had no idea why, but she was feeling nervous upon arriving at her house. That butterflies-in-your-stomach, face flushing pink feeling that her books describe when the protagonist is meeting their crush. Maybe that’s just what love feels like? Sam never feels this way with her family, but family love is always a bit different. This is more like a sinking wave; body being pulled down beneath the horizon while your soul floats just barely above it on a rushing fog.   
Maggie is already waiting on the front steps when Sam and her mom get out of the car. The girls crash into each other’s arms and hug with ferocity, letting their longing for each other be compacted into the space between them. Their moms greet each other with a much more casual hug and make small talk about the logistical pains of moving with a family.   
“Do you want to go inside? It looks weird without everything in the house, kind of creepy,” Maggie asks.  
“Sure. Lead the way, my dear,” Sam agrees, gesturing dramatically towards the front door. The girls go inside and don’t bother to take off their shoes because it’s not like it’s their house anymore, so who cares if the carpet gets dirty? As promised, it does look creepy and empty. The whiteness of the cream-colored walls blends with the tan carpet and white doorways into a blank suffocating expanse. There are still various bits of thread and whatnot scattered around the carpet, which seem to be the only mark left by Maggie’s family. Faint gray outlines from where picture frames used to be hung are imprinted on the walls along with a few nail holes. When Maggie isn’t looking, Sam picks up and pockets a small blue button that’s wedged between the carpet and the wall. Something to remember them by. She can feel the heat build behind her face, threatening to release into familiar tears. She blinks and takes a shaking breath to cool it away.   
“Yeah it is super weird. Did you really take everything out? Not leaving anything? she asks  
“Yup, every last thing. They’re leaving the desk in my brother’s room that’s built into the wall but that’s it. It’s kind of nice in a way, everything is clean,” Maggie replies. Sam has never been a fan of organizing or cleaning and for the life of her can’t see the appeal. The blankness is oppressive. Maggie grabs her friend’s hand and leads her upstairs, “You have GOT to see my room. They painted over the purple walls and it doesn’t even look anything like it used to.”  
Slightly embarrassed, Sam hands the book to Maggie, “It’s a going-away present. This is my favorite book of all time so it’s something to remember me by.” Maggie takes it and turns it over to read the summary on the back.   
“Wow this does sound like your kind of thing. Hey, is this where you got the idea for that Evan character you were in that one story about the dogs?” she says.  
“Well that’s where I got the NAME, but I didn’t steal the entire character,” Sam replies.   
“And, I don’t need a book to remember you by. We can still visit and stuff,” Maggie says with finality. “But thank you. I should have gotten you something.”   
“No worries,” Sam assures. She waits for Maggie to open the door because it is, technically, her house.   
“Holy crap,” Sam mutters under her breath upon entering what used to be Maggie’s room. It really doesn’t look like the same place. Before, Maggie’s room was a sanctuary of comfort and femininity, wallpapered with posters of animals and Disney princesses. There was not even a faint remnant of the lilac walls, they were absorbed by layer upon layer of off-white paint. The carpet was exquisitely soft, rebounding without the weight of the furniture and having been vacuumed and shampooed over and over while the house was being shown. The corner that used to hold her bed still has indents in the carpet where the posts stood; if she blinks Sam can still picture it there, with its bright pink sheets and sheer canopy. There’s an overbearing odor of vacuum dust and wet pain, but faintly beneath it she can still smell the familiar perfume of Maggie’s room. Fruity soap and baby powder.   
“The carpet is softer,” Sam points out.   
“Yeah I wish it could have felt like this the whole time!” Maggie replied  
“Why’d they get rid of the purple?”   
“Apparently people don’t want to buy a house with purple walls. Which is so stupid because they’re going to paint over the white anyways and choose their own colors. We left the green kitchen but other than that everything else just HAD to be white. Adults have no creativity. I tried to tell them to leave the purple so people could see this is supposed to be a kid’s room. And like, imagine living here? But nooooo. It’s unprofessional and you’ll-understand-when-you’re-an-adult,” Maggie rants.   
Sam nods in agreement, “Adults are boring. When I’m an adult I’m going to paint the outside of my house bright blue and the inside alternating colors. Blue then green then yellow,” she moves about the room gesturing at the walls,” Like the lake and grass and sun. And I won’t do those stupid gray pastels they always paint houses. I’ll use real colors!”   
“I think I would pick a color scheme like a real designer, not just something made up. I’d still do pink, but like a light pink, with an accent color like gray,” Maggie disagrees, “ I wouldn’t want my house to look like something a kid designed.”  
“But kids are better! More creative and unique,” Sam protests.   
“Well, maybe for some things,” Maggie purses her lips and tilts her head side to side, pondering the shades of their imaginary houses as if it were the question of life’s meaning.  
“But if you really like the designer professional thing then you could do it. I’d want our house to look like something you like too, because if I made all the decision it would be selfish,” Sam rambles.  
“Our house?” Maggie asks confusedly, raising an eyebrow at her friend.  
“Well, yeah. I mean, after we’re done with school and living with our parents and move in together. Because people live with people they like,” Sam explains.   
Maggie is not following her train of thought. “But I was planning on moving in with my husband,”  
Sam scoffs, “Who might that be?”  
“I dunno. Joe Jonas?”  
“Dude, he’s like twenty. He wouldn’t want to marry a nine-year-old,”  
“Well, someone like that then. A cute guy who’s a good actor and singer. We could meet in college,”  
“Oh, I forgot about college. Yeah, I guess who knows? You never can tell when you’ll meet the one.”  
“Exactly,” Maggie says pointedly, relieved to be done with the confusing topic of ‘our house’, “But we should live next to each other. In the same neighborhood and our kids can be best friends. I’ll learn how to make donuts like my mom and you can help them with homework.”  
“Good plan!” Sam agrees, albeit a little disappointed that Maggie’s fantasy doesn’t involve them living in the same house. But it’s true, she can’t tell the future.   
The front door opens loudly and echoes through the empty house. Maggie’s mom calls for the girls to come back outside because they need to leave soon. The illusion is shattered and they remember that they’re saying goodbye, not just hanging out together.   
“We could hide in the closet?” Sam suggests, feeling an uneasy jolt in her chest at the thought of leaving.  
“It never works,” Maggie points out, dismayed. “Besides, we’re staying the night at my grandma’s which is three hours away and can’t show up too late. It’s already almost 8.”  
“It’s 7:53,” Sam corrects. She hates how adults always round times to 8-ish, quarter-til, half-past, and all that nonsense. Just say the stupid numbers, it’s the same number of syllables.   
Maggie rolls her eyes, “Okay, fine, it’s already 7:53.”  
“54 now.”  
“Nerd.”  
“Yup.”  
“Where do you even get this stuff from?”  
“My ass.”  
“SAM!”  
“Sorry,” Sam blushes when the Catholic guilt of saying a swear word hits her, so she makes the sign of the cross. “It just fit.”   
“Okay but don’t say it in front of my mom.”  
“I wouldn’t!”   
The girls haven’t made much progress in the going-outside-and-leaving department during their conversation. Maggie is standing with her back to the stairs and Sam is leaning against the wall with one leg stuck out so it reaches almost all the way across the hallway. Finally, Maggie’s mom actually comes inside to see what’s taking her daughter so long. It’s been a half hour and this was supposed to be a quick, five-minute, hug and say goodbye.   
“What are you two up to?” She smiles at the pair of girls at the top of the stairs.  
“I wanted to show her how weird my room looks,” Maggie explains.   
“It is weird. You should have kept the purple,” Sam adds as they walk downstairs.   
Maggie’s mom pats her daughter on the shoulder “Come on, girly-girl. We need to get going.” The three go back outside to Sam’s mom, standing in a little cluster with the girls looking across at their moms.   
“Did you give her the gift?” Sam’s mom asks.  
Maggie holds up the book. She hadn’t noticed the things tucked inside yet. Sam half-smiles and hopes she won’t see them until after she’s at the new house, so it’s more of a special surprise.   
“I still feel bad I didn’t get you anything,” Maggie apologizes.   
“It’s okay, really,” Sam hugs her friend lightly.   
“Hey, did you get her new address?” Sam’s mom asks her.   
“What?”  
“You know, so you can write letters to each other. You guys can be pen pals,” she explains.  
Maggie’s eyes light up, “Oh, that’s an amazing idea! Hang on, I think I have a pen and paper in my backpack in the car.” She runs over to the minivan which still has the doors open from packing. Sam The Brother is sitting on the ground next to it leaning against a tire and playing his Game Boy.   
“Sup, weirdo? Your friend leave yet? You girls take foreverrrrr,” he complains.  
“Shut up. Just because you don’t have friends doesn’t mean I have to rush with mine,” she retaliates.  
“I do so have friends. I said goodbye to them at school. And it didn’t take an entire freaking hour because we aren’t whiny babies. If you’d stop hugging and whining we’d be gone already.”  
“Whatever. We’re almost done so quit complaining.” Maggie emerges from the back seat of the car with a pen and miniature sketchbook, and heads back over to her friend.  
“Here, I can write it on the back of one of these,” she passes the book to Sam, “Pick one. But not the ones of my cat, those are special.” Sam flips through the drawings and finds it hard to choose.   
She really likes the cat drawings but eventually decides on the stage design Maggie had drawn for a play. It’s the one with ‘that Evan character’ and shows him and Maggie’s character Carissa standing on a bridge overlooking a river. It was a romance scene, which had been a little hard to write but they made it work with Sam tucking her hair into a hat and pretending to be a boy. Carissa is confessing her love to Evan in the most sappy and dramatic way possible, courtesy of Maggie’s love for campy romance movies (of course, to appease Sam, the characters charge into a battle against and evil knife-wielding CEO immediately afterwards).   
Sam tears the page out and passes it to Maggie, who neatly writes her address on the back. “Sign it,” she instructs. Maggie complies and hands it back. The blue pen stands out against the faded colored pencil shading on the drawing, her loopy exaggerated cursive sweeping across the bottom of the page. Of course Maggie has a practiced signature for when she becomes famous.   
“That was a great idea,” Maggie’s mom says, “These two already love to write.”   
Maggie looks back at her friend and they lock eyes. Sam’s are wet with the early beginnings of tears that she’s trying desperately to conceal. Maggie would hate for her friend to be embarrassed about crying. The girl just feels everything so deeply, which she truly does admire. She inhales deeply and gathers Sam into a crushing hug and lets out an audible sob. Her sadness had been beneath the surface, ignorable, until the moment she realized that they couldn’t pretend anymore. This really was goodbye. Sam’s tears follow shortly after, hot and wet and silent. It seems so odd that Sam is a silent crier when she’s expressive in every other emotion.  
“I’m really going to miss you,” Sam speaks into Maggie’s back.  
“I’ll miss you too. So, so, so much,” she replies.   
“You are the best friend I’ve ever had,” Sam says. Other words form on her lips that she is yearning to say but forces down. The adults would never understand. And based on their conversation earlier, Maggie wouldn’t either. It is beginning to seem like no one will ever understand how Sam feels everything to its highest degree of intensity, especially love for her friend. I love you I love you I love you.  
“You are too. We will see each other again I promise,” Maggie says.  
“And I have your address. I’ll come visit you. As soon as I can.”  
“And you’ll write to me?”  
“I’ll write to you.”


	12. life and beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the following one are told in the form of the letters the girls send to each other

3/10/2007  
Dear Maggie,  
I hope you are loving your new house! I REALLY miss you and wish you could come back here so we could go to the spring fling together. It’s like your school’s dances/party things. I went to the fall one with Kayla and her friends but we don’t talk much anymore because Kayla is fake and pretends to like things so the popular girls will like her (she secretly likes Hannah Montana but pretends not to because APPARENTLY it's not "cool" anymore). So I’ll probably just end up going with my brother :-( But at least it’s sunny out! The snow here is melting and me and Jenna (the one who’s six) played in the puddles and it was practically like swimming. You would have loved it! You probably don’t still have snow where you are, right? Hopefully I can come visit soon. My mom said not for spring break but maybe over the summer. Give your cat a kiss from me!  
You BFFL (Best friend for life),  
Sam

3/14/2007  
Dear Sam,  
I love the flower stickers you used! And yeah I am really liking the new house. There isn’t a swing set in the yard but my dad said he could build one for us this summer, and I’m really excited because since he’s building it himself it can have whatever we want. My room is smaller but it’s ok. Instead of putting my posters back up I hung a HUGE tapestry over the biggest wall, it has pink clouds and roses. It has two windows which you would love. And fish!!!!! I got a fish tank for my desk! I just have the one fish in it now, he’s a blue betta fish and REALLY pretty. We’re starting at the new school on Monday and I am super excited! It’s not a Catholic school like yours, just a regular one. But the teachers seem really nice and the students are super cool. Dress codes here are not as strict so some people even have colored hair! I’d love to color a streak in my hair but not the whole thing, or a feather. They're super trendy! Would you ever color your hair? I miss you a lot too!  
Your BFFLAB (Best friend for life AND BEYOND!)  
Maggie  
  
3/16/2007  
Dear Maggie,  
Awww your fish sounds super cute! Our goldfish is still alive btw. I’ve never heard of a tapestry, but I’m sure it looks pretty. Good luck at your new school! I know you’ll make tons of friends. And being the new kid + having blonde hair like yours is going to make you seem really cool, you’re going to be in the popular crowd for sure! You should tell them about me and our plays and dances. Maybe teach them the dances! Speaking (writing?) of dancing, the spring fling is going to be this week. I’ve heard there is going to be a dance part in the gym with the games and stuff in a separate room, sort of like a real high school dance but for elementary school. Also, I cannot BELIEVE people are allowed to color their hair crazy colors at your school! I’m jealous! I don’t think you should do yours though because I’ve heard it makes blonde hair fall out or turn green or never be the same again. But maybe just a streak would be fine. I will for sure dye mine if it ever turns brown when I’m an adult, like my dad’s did. Probably pink, blue, or red. Wish you were here!  
Your Absolutely For Real BFFLAB,  
Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally pulled the dates out of my ass for around the time I imagine the story taking place. Early 2000s nostalgia! Can I get a wahoo?!


	13. mixing universes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How much Sad Feels can I fit into Sam? Too much. Ten year olds are EVIL

3/29/2007  
Dear Sam,  
I’m really really sorry for not writing back for so long. Did you go to the spring dance thingy? I got busy with school and also with joining the choir here. It’s been great so far and even though we don’t sing anything fun like I wanted to it’s awesome because I’m a soprano so get to sing all the high notes that have cool harmonies. You know what a harmony is, right? If you did choir you would be an alto and I’d love to have you in our choir because most of the altos here don’t actually sing and just pretend to so it ends up sounding really quiet and ruins the whole thing. They’re all the girls who don’t actually like choir and just do it so they don’t have to learn an instrument. They’re boring. But luckily the sopranos are NOT like that and we are the best part in the choir. Other than that school is normal. I got a bad grade on my first math quiz last week (it’s ok because quizzes are the small ones, tests are the important ones) but mom wasn’t too made since I’ve only been here for three weeks. I can’t believe it’s been almost a month since I moved! I miss you a lot but am glad this is a fun place.   
Your (South Carolina!) BFFL,  
Maggie  
P.S. I did give my cat a kiss for you  
  
4/6/2007  
Dear Maggie,  
Thank you for writing me back, I was starting to get worried I wouldn’t hear from you and something bad happened. Zeke and I started visiting Halloweentown again (the movie with the monsters and demons is an alternate universe and we can travel to it through imagining ourselves there and then it mixes the 2 universes) so I thought maybe a demon came to your town. We sensed one here, in my dad’s car! But they’re afraid of the light so we got rid of it. Anyways, I’m glad you’re loving choir and the school! Sorry about your math test. Quiz. WHATEVER. You’re really smart and amazing at writing so I’m sure it won’t be a big deal in the grand scheme of things. I did go to the spring fling but Zeke spent it with his friends in the game area so I went to the dance part by myself. It was wonderful and I danced the entire time because they had turned the lights mostly off. People couldn’t tell it was me so I danced as much as I could and it felt so FREE. It’s hard to explain, if you would have been there you would get it. But one of the guys asked me out as a joke. Which was a little embarrassing but not really because I’m too cool for him anyways, unfortunately now people make fun of me for it and I can’t make them understand that I don’t care. Brooke wouldn’t shut up and made me cry. I wish you were here then you could explain to them. Do people cry in class at your school? You said you have before and when we were in 3rd or 2nd grade people did but now I think I am the only one. IDK.   
Your (EVERYWHERE) Best Friend,  
Sam

4/10/2007  
Dear Sam,  
I’m sorry about the people being mean. You’re right, they don’t understand because they aren’t on the same level as you. I don’t think I am either actually, you are insanely smart and you make things in such a different way that I think is more adult-ish than what kids do. So probably they would love your dancing and writing and everything if they were adults and understood it. You know how sometimes I didn’t know what you were talking about in our plays like with why the CEO in that one story was evil? Stuff like that. I didn’t know what a CEO was or why this one did bad things and you had to explain it but the problem is that you are better at making things than explaining them. Yeah so IDK either. Sorry for the short letter but I am busy and will send a real one later but you sounded confused so I sent this one.  
Hugs from South Carolina!  
Maggie

4/15/2007  
Dear Maggie,  
Okay send the real one soon! Are you saying I should spend more time with adults then? That could work, adults like me. And Zeke and Nate do too, I think because I am with them a lot so they don’t need explaining to. It’s weird that Zeke gets bad grades but a lot of the time can be smarter than the other kids his age. He can’t spell (he REALLY can’t spell LOL) but him and Nate do the coolest stuff with computers. Tell your choir friends about me! I miss you!  
Your VBFFLAF (Very Best Friend For Life And Forever),  
Sam

4/25/2007  
Dear Sam,  
Here is the real one! School here is getting busy and it’s almost summer. We have a choir performance this week and the book fair is coming up soon too. Does your school have book fairs? I read the book you gave me and really loved it! I made a drawing of the characters that I’ll put in this envelope for you before I send it. Also I wanted to tell you that’s it’s totally okay to cry in class. People in my school do, you’re right not as much as a few years ago but they do. And yes I have too but not at this school, I think because I have lots of friends here and the teachers don’t get mean if you don’t know an answer. Don’t spend more time with adults, they’re boring and whatever. You have a neighbor that’s a few years older, right? Go play with her and tell her I say hi! If you write a story or play with her please send it to me. I did tell my choir friends about you and they said that you sounds like a very cool person. I showed them a picture of us, the one with the bikini tops, and they said you are BEAUTIFUL and should be a supermodel in real life because you’re tall. I agree. You would like my choir friends I think. I don’t want to move back but I would want you to move here. Can you come visit ever?  
Your VBFFLAF,  
Maggie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *With the communication problems and the dance thing I'm trying to portray more of how Sam's ADHD affects her. I've never done a written description of it but I'm hoping it gets across


	14. making a new life

While Sam is dragging herself through the school year, Maggie is racking her brain trying to keep up with everything going on at her new school. She loves it, but there are so many new names and faces it’s nearly impossible to keep track of. Sam had been right, being the new kid won her a few popularity points; she’s not the most popular girl, Cassidy is, but they have mutual friends and Maggie is definitely in the top tier among the choir kids.   
Maggie had gone looking for the picture of Sam immediately after receiving her most recent letter. It was still tucked safely inside the book where she left it; a strange sort of nostalgia washed over her as she pulled it out thinking that the last time she touched this particular photo was over a month ago. She misses Sam, she really does, but is beginning to accept the reality that they’re probably not going to see each other again. Initially in their friendship they were both flung full-force into being as close as possible. They were always on the same wavelength and shared so many stories of their individual lives, Maggie often felt like she was living a second life through Sam. Not that she’d trade hers for her friend’s. Sure, she’s jealous of Sam’s good grades and sometimes wishes she had her curly hair (stick-straight can get boring sometimes) but wouldn’t give her singing voice and expansive friendship circle for anything.   
That’s why the they were so close, Maggie thinks, because they had most things in common but still some differences. Now, at this new school, all her friends have almost everything in common. Most aren’t in any accelerated classes, they all do theater and choir, all are shorter than the boys (as girls SHOULD be, she insists), and are all pretty in a traditional sense. Just like Maggie. She and Sam did everything together but their differences kept it interesting. Maggie’s artistic talent added a layer of refinement and Sam’s whirlwind creativity ensured nothing ever got boring. The popular girls have individuality, of course, but like Sam was saying about her friend Kayla, oftentimes hide it to avoid conflict or emphasizing difference. It’s easier to get along that way.   
Maggie had stretched the truth, a bit, when she told Sam what her friends thought of the photo. She brought it to class the day after finding it and handed it to Jenna, one of the other sopranos, first.  
“Hey, Jenna, do you want to see a picture of one of my friends from my old house?” she asks.  
“Sure,” Jenna takes the photo, “What’s her name?”  
“This is Sam, on the right with the darker hair. We’re in costumes acting out a story we wrote. Sam is an amazing actress and an ever-better writer. She came up with a lot of the story idea. I made up the costumes.”  
“Cool,” Jenna replies passively, obviously not very interested.   
Maggie presses on, struggling to relay just how awesome her friend is. “Yeah. We made up a lot of dance routines too, and wrote some plays and stuff. I’m the better singer and dancer since Sam was never in theater or anything. But she’s taller so could always do the boy parts in couples’ dancing.”  
“Yeah she is tall. Like a model,” Jenna points out. Maggie nods.  
“And really pretty, don’t you think?”  
“I guess so,” the girl shrugs. “But she looks like a kid. I think to be a model and REALLY beautiful she’d have to look older. But your friend is pretty, for a kid.”  
“Well she IS a kid,” Maggie says indigently, “I bet she could be a model when she’s older. I could too if I were taller.”  
“True.”  
Maggie takes the picture back and puts it back in her folder. “Are you auditioning for the solo today?”  
“Nah, I don’t like the song much. It’s from that movie Enchanted, which I think is stupid. Are you?”  
“Of course, I audition for every solo. I want to do as many as I can.”  
The teacher arrives and plays chord on the piano to get the class’s attention. She begins with the solo auditions as always; it’s the fourth time since Maggie’s gotten to the school. She hasn’t gotten one yet and it’s beginning to wear on her self-esteem. To her surprise, there are only three girls who want to do this one.   
“I told you it was a dumb movie. But I bet you’ll get it, you’re way better than those other two,” Jessica whispers. Maggie smiles and confidently raises her hand to go to the front of the room and sing the first few lines; she sings with all the passion in the world (which is admittedly a bit out of place for a campy tune called ‘Happy Working Song’). The girl positively glows with pride when the teacher announces she’ll be singing the solo, and rise the wave of joy for the rest of the day.


	15. words i wish i had said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want us to get a house together and plant a garden with every flower in the world and have a gigantic bed with fluffy pillows and a pink canopy. I want us to have a cat and drive to work together and make a lifetime of inside jokes. I want to share your shampoo and braid your hair every day and hold your hand. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, wake up every morning to see you sleeping next to me

Sam’s body pulses with jealousy and some other feeling that she doesn’t have the words for. Sadness? Nostalgia? Loss? She doesn’t know, Maggie’s not dead, and they still talk through the letters and email occasionally. But her replies have gotten slower and slower as time goes on and Sam’s longing for her best friend only grows more intense. To make things worse, she’s been taunted with renewed vigor on her classmates’ part since the incident at the spring fling. Apparently, leaping and dancing around like an overcaffeinated flamingo didn’t look as amazing and free to everyone else as it did to Sam, and they could definitely tell it was her.  
Sam knows it’s her fault that she gets made fun of all the time. She’s the weird kid. She carries around a notebook with a lock glued on it, she reads instead of talking during free periods, she talks to herself and spaces out in class, she reads the books for middle schoolers instead of the fun iSpy books, she cries often and easily, and she hides under the desk when she gets frustrated. All things worth making fun of. The other kids don’t even have to try; they can just tell Sam about anything she’s done and she’ll barely get two sentences out to defend herself then start crying. Like a crazy person would, it’s funny, she’s weird, she’s crazy.  
It was another rough day at school and Sam immediately stomps up to her bedroom when she gets home. She tears off her uniform and finds herself sniffling with tears. She angrily blows her nose in the shirt as if to say _screw you_ to it. After changing into regular clothes Sam flops down on the floor with a notebook and pen to write a letter to Maggie.  
It’s all Sam can do to keep her head down and pretend she’s with Maggie. She daydreams about their house some far-off day in the future, decorating THEIR room together and planting THEIR garden outside. The religion teacher said that you’re supposed to marry someone that you love and want to spend the rest of your life with. Well, then, Sam wants to marry Maggie.

>   
>  5/1/2007  
>  Dear Maggie,  
>  I’m glad you’re having fun at your new school! Have fun and make friends for me, because I can’t here and everyone hates me. I know I deserve it but still, that doesn’t make it any easier. I wish you were here. You know you were my best friend? And sometimes my only friend. Now I don’t have any. I miss you.  
>  Idk what you know about marriage because you aren’t Catholic. But basically they tell us it’s what you do when you love someone and want to spend the rest of your life with them. So I want to marry you. I want us to get a house together and plant a garden with every flower in the world and have a gigantic bed with fluffy pillows and a pink canopy. I want us to have a cat and drive to work together and make a lifetime of inside jokes. I want to share your shampoo and braid your hair every day and hold your hand. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, wake up every morning to see you sleeping next to me.  
>  I haven’t told anyone. I don’t think people really understand how love works. It’s not only between a husband and a wife, you know? There’s friend love and family love too. I think the way I love you is friend love mixed with real I-love-you-romantic love. I love you Maggie. Like really love you. And I know we can’t be together right now but I’ll wait for you, I’ll follow you.  
>  Love,  
>  Sam  
> 

She folds it up carefully and places it in a yellow envelope, then asks her mom to write the address this time just in case the post office can’t read her handwriting. It’s an important one, she says, and she can’t take the risk. The girl practically flies down the driveway to mail the letter, her honey-gold hair trailing behind her in the wind. Sam is barefoot and pays no mind to the scaping of concrete against her feet, she runs basking in the warm breeze. The world is soaked in halcyon orange as the sun sets, engulfing her in its aura. She feels alive.  
Sam places the letter in the mailbox with more care than she’s ever used for anything in her life. She takes her time walking back inside and pauses to peruse the dandelions growing in the front yard. She sits in the damp grass next to a particularly thick patch and picks them one by one, her fingernails like tiny scissors snipping the stems. The sun melts into the horizon and Sam expertly threads the dandelions into a crown, which she places on her head before rising to go inside. She doesn’t take it off until she goes to sleep. 


	16. it's up to fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!

Sam tosses and turns all night thinking about the letter she had written. It seemed like a good idea at first, it was a decision made in caution-to-the-wind, carpe-diem moment. But now, she’s not so sure. First of all, it’s been painfully clear from Maggie’s letters that she’s drifting away (just like Sam feared) and probably doesn’t love her as much as she used to. And besides that, there’s what Sam’s mom had told her yesterday evening.  
“Mom, can a girl marry a girl?” They were alone in her mom’s walk-in closet doing laundry. Her mom turned to her with an uncharacteristically sudden movement, and Sam shrank back towards on a reflex that developed after one too many instances of boys throwing things at her because they liked to watch her flinch.   
“What do you mean?”  
“Like get married. If two girls really love each other and want to live together forever, they could, right?”  
“Well…” she struggled to find the right words, “it’s not exactly…right. Marriage is for a husband and wife. Two girls couldn’t get married in a church, they’d have to do it in a dirty government office, it wouldn’t be a real wedding.”  
“Oh, but, could they?”  
“I guess technically…yes. But it’s rare, and not a real marriage. Why do you ask?”  
“Because I want to marry Maggie. I want to spend my life with her, like you and dad,”   
“Oh, honey. That’s not what you really want. You don’t really understand marriage, it’s not just living together. You start a family, have kids. And you and Maggie, you’re just friends. You may want to live together but that’s not the same thing as wanting to get married.”  
“But I love her! I really do want to marry her,” Sam insisted.   
“Well, but you want to have kids, right?” Sam had nodded, she loves kids. “And two girls can’t have kids.”  
“Oh. I guess I hadn’t thought of that.”  
“Exactly. Honey, you’re so young. You don’t need to worry about these things now, you aren’t even close to being old enough to be thinking about who you want to marry. You’ll meet a man someday, and you’ll fall in love and understand that what you’re feeling now, for Maggie, that isn’t marriage love.”  
“Okay,” Sam walked out of the closet feeling an unfamiliar combination of emotions that followed her well into the night.   
The easiest to express is anger, anger at her mom for not understanding and dismissing her love just because she’s a kid. Then there’s a sort of resigned sadness. But she feels defiance too, the urge to marry Maggie (or another girl) out of pure spite. And guilt, there’s so much guilt, it swallows her whole. This emotion is the only one Sam truly understands, she’s so familiar with it. She’s buried under an avalanche of guilt because she knows that part of what her mom said is true: marriage is for a husband and wife, a wedding between two girls wouldn’t be real.  
Sam had managed to fall asleep around midnight and woke up that morning at ten feeling foggy and distant. She can’t take her mind off the letter. Her mom makes pancakes and she watches her family devour stacks of warm syrupy sweetness. Sam pokes at the and eats only a small one with an infinitesimal amount of syrup and no butter, but feels guilty as if she’s eaten the same amount as everyone else. Another layer of guilt, disgusting and buttery spread thick over the avalanche that fell inside her last night.   
She sulks, laying on the floor of her bedroom with a novel she’s read a thousand times before. When her arms grow stiff she closes the book and sits up staring into space. The realization washes over her, sweeping away the regret. She can undo it.   
Sam leaps down the stairs frantically and rushes out the front door; just like yesterday she doesn’t stop for shoes. Today the concrete hurts and tiny stones dig into her skin. The sun is hot and she can smell the gasoline of an idling car. The mail truck! It’s across the street, at her neighbor’s house.  
The girl breaks into a sprint, kicking up gravel in her wake. The mail truck pulls away and heads to the neighborhood’s exit.   
“Crap! It’s getting away! Crapcrapcrapcrap! No!” she mutters through heaving breaths. It’s gone, turned the corner and now puttering along at thirty miles per hour down the street. Sam groans and throws her arms up in anguish then turns to stop back to her house.   
As she’s walking back feeling thoroughly sorry for herself, another idea takes root. She’s too late to take the letter out of the mail BOX, but maybe not too late to take it out of the mail TRUCK. Sam arms herself with a pair of sunglasses (to hide her identity, duh) tightly laced running shoes, and her bike. She pokes her head inside the back door to yell to her mom that she’s going for a bike ride, then is off. Mail trucks are slow. There’s a lot of houses in the neighborhood next to hers. And, Sam knows for a fact that it’s the next one on the route because she’s followed it before just for fun while biking.   
Her legs pump the pedals of her lime-green bike, she even stands up and shifts into the highest gear to put as much speed into it as possible. The girl rounds the corner into the next neighborhood and can hear the engine idling. She vigorously pedals and drifts onto the next street, and there it is! Even better, the back door is open and the mailman is going up to the house with a package!   
Sam jumps off the bike and throws it down, then steps inside the back of the truck. She’s breathing hard and it echoes in the aluminum space; there are white baskets filled with white envelopes everywhere. Momentarily, Sam loses hope of picking her letter out of the mass, then she remembers she’d use a yellow envelope. She flicks through the basket nearest the door, only looking at the colors. Unfortunately for her, that was her downfall. If Sam had been looking at any of the addresses she would have realized that the stack she’s looking at is all incoming mail, and hers would be in outgoing.   
“No, no, no, no,” she mutters to herself each time she passes an envelope that isn’t hers. It has barely been two minutes and the mailman is back. He’s got a job to do, after all.   
“Hey kid! Get out of there!” he calls. Sam jolts up and looks at him like a deer in headlights. It’s over, she’s caught. She leaps out of the truck and pushes past him, emptyhanded. Fear pulses through her at getting caught, and Sam holds onto the hope that he has no idea who she is and the sunglasses worked.   
She hops back onto her bike and races away , the aftershock of adrenaline the only thing keeping her moving at high speed. Upon arriving home and stomping back up to her room in classic brooding preteen fashion, Sam is forced to accept that fact that the letter is out of her hands. It’s up to fate now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I originally planned on ending the story. I may do an epilogue at some point, but for now I'd like to leave up to interpretation what happens next.


End file.
